


Could Spend One Life With You

by OnBehalfOfTheBunnies



Series: When Has Life Been Tame [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who, F/M, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:14:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnBehalfOfTheBunnies/pseuds/OnBehalfOfTheBunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A possibility touching on what Rose's life was like between The Parting of the Ways and Turn Left, and life with her Doctor (10x2) after Journey's End.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Could Spend One Life With You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry anyone who started reading this and was interested - life, a move, another child, etc. leave barely any time for sleep, let alone typing up notebooks and editing (well I say that and really I keep adding to the notebooks while pumping - anything from an idea, to a full chapter, to some smutty interlude). Eventually this whole thing will get finished, no idea when. Updating earlier chapters since I had a chance to re-read and edit slightly.
> 
> (Note - While added as "Chapter 3" it is chronologically before Chapter 1 and if I had this whole thing written out would be a side story.)
> 
> Yet to be added portions will require quite a few warnings 
> 
> At the moment I have 150 pages in a document of two stories - one of 10 and Rose (that has evolved to also focus on Bad Wolf, TARDIS, and Jack) and one of 10x2 and Rose, and a version of their new life and challenges. I also have two full notebooks of parts of these two stories to transcribe, and as always happens, expand upon. So I may just make each of them a series and post completed parts when I feel each portion is complete, no matter the order.

The sound I had focused on for so long instinctively breaks me from our kiss, I am moving towards it, watching its pulsing fade from view before my mind catches up. A hand laces with mine and I look to see who would...oh.

We glance at each other, then look at the empty space where our home just disappeared. Because even now I think of the TARDIS as home, and since they both insisted that he is the Doctor he must feel the same way.

A moment to remember how to breathe again then he catches me peeking out the corner of my eye, again he smiles and by the tone of it I assume he makes a joke. The words however are complete gibberish.

"What?"

His eyebrow quirks and he says something short in the same lilting nonsense.

I give him a confused look. "Speak English."

His unintelligible comment is longer this time. I drag my shoe to repeat my request in the sand.

He does the fast style of incoherent rambling that indicates he is talking to himself, accentuated when he pulls the small piece of TARDIS coral from his pocket, apparently talking back and forth between it and me.

Mum's voice cuts through the air, "What's he saying then? Is he talking dirty in alien? For shame I'm your mother!"

" _Muuum_ of course he's not" Well, I'm assuming, though it would help if he quit stroking the coral with his thumb like that. An idea based on his actions, "The TARDIS is what translated all the alien stuff, now it's separated in a parallel universe and that" I tilt my chin towards his hand, "is just a baby, and I would guess if he never needed it, that no matter how long he's been traveling and visiting Earth he never bothered to learn English." 

I sigh and squeeze his hand. "This is going to be a bit of a challenge."


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor holds my hand as Mum flags down a ride while on hold with Pete, I make sure to squeeze it occasionally to earn a smile and returned gesture. We both seem to need the reassurance that this is real. 

The smallest cab I’ve ever seen is the person who stops, and the ride to the air pad feels long, crammed between of one person talking nonstop and one who can only attempt to pantomime in frustration. I can barely shift to wedge a hand in my pocket and force down three small tabs, only a little late from my scheduled dose, with the stale warm bottle of water the cabbie overcharges for. However it is the first chance to just breathe and really absorb this new reality. 

Other than the past few hours, it has been years since I’ve seen the man I love, it is reflexive to try and snuggle into his side. My action pulls a surprised look from the Doctor as he glances away from the window, tightening an arm around me before I can make the small shift away. That is how we speed through the sparsely populated road, my head resting on his shoulder, staring at the passing scenery without really seeing it, focusing on my other senses, because obviously he looks the same as before, just a new suit. He had sounded mostly the same too, a bit more snark and … I’m not sure what. Our verbal banter had always been fun, so once we can understand each other again I doubt that will be a problem. While the double heartbeat has been halved, he still feels like home just as he smells of the same metallic-ish spaciness, though now it has a hit of something else. I lick my lips, and taste…well he was the one with the oral obsession, but the flavor of his lips, compared to the half forgotten memories…

“Rose! Are you even listening to me?” The hand on my knee makes me jump, scattering my thoughts, Mum’s tone is exasperated. I give a generic response about the obviously long day or something, and she continues on while my mind loops over the earlier events. They had said the piece of coral would eventually be a full grown duplicate of the beauty that is the TARDIS, but right now it’s just a baby, not even spanning the length of his fingers, even at an exponential rate would it take years? Decades? He’ll need a new ID, a new everything since he only has the clothes on his back and whatever is stowed in the pockets, just like me a few years ago…though a billionaire “step dad” definitely made things easier.

Blinking I realize we’ve pulled right up onto the airfield, and focus on mum’s words, Apparently she managed a ride on one of the giant cruise style zeppelins and it had been held the quarter of an hour for us to arrive. I try not to take advantage of Pete, and I really don’t want to know how much he paid to make the three private rooms available last minute like this, so we could shower and sleep on the five hour flight. However much, they still rush us on board, gently lifting off less than two minutes from when the cab parked.

Mu-Jackie, call her Jackie, you know better, goes off to call home and take a nap while the Doctor and I watch the world skim by from the observation deck. I make a few faces at his reflection while he is engrossed with the bridges that are deviant from the other universe. At his double-take when he finally catches me, mid-fishy lips, I stifle what would have been a burst out of laughing. He tsks a finger at me, tapping my nose then pulling me into a slightly stiff hug, a scolding tone to his babble.

The touch lingers, “I can’t believe you never thought to learn English, I know you and Jack talked about how you were both fluent in Basic but a lot of good that does you here and now. No chance of a Rosetta Stone hidden away in those pockets?” I don’t bother to try pantomiming or _Pictionary_ with the ship’s small stationary pads.

We wander around the deck aimlessly with small touches, affections, testing who is bolder as we slowly make our way back to one of the rooms. By the time we reach the hallway our steps are rushed, matching the number on the key card to the metal disc on the door. He fumbles swiping the card a few times before it opens as I press my smile into his lips. That barest of kisses sparks and morphs into the same desperate kiss from the beach, making assurances that words wouldn’t be able to give as we push into the room.

Clinging to each other there are frantic teases of skin to skin as jackets are yanked, pulled off, and discarded carelessly to the floor, neither of us willing to allow the demanding kiss to break. Pushing him so we inch back towards the cot I tug the hem of his shirt up. My lips part and his tongue flickers and darts against mine and a low noise rumbles into the kiss. When I smooth my fingers down to cup him through his trousers the hand splayed at the small of my back clenches slightly and his hips grind forward into the contact.

I give a careful squeeze and am rewarded with another thrust against my hand and a guttural noise. He pulls back slightly and his fast words are in a tone that matches his gaze, hungry. He shucks off his tee and panting for breath, carefully adjusts his arousal. I glance over his frame, licking my lips, his eyes lock on the motion. I grin, peeling off my shirt, then mould myself to him, pressing until he sits back on the small bed. Climbing astride to straddle him I rock my hips in a lazy but steady rhythm while leaning forward, binding my hands in his hair to capture his lips once more. Half breathless at the muted stimulation of his arousal rubbing against me I groan, we are still separated by too many layers of fabric.

He leans backward until his shoulders touch the sheets, pulling me with him, warm skin heating warm skin. His hands clasp my hips, pressing my motions down harder as he bucks up, murmuring words I can’t decipher.

I hum with approval, squirming at the contact. It doesn’t matter to him the words I moan but they tumble out nonetheless, things I had wanted to say for years interspersed with demands for the way his body moves.

His unintelligible groan rumbles against my chest as he snakes a hand down under my remaining clothes, finding me slick and nearly ready. A finger tentatively dips inside as I plead, rocking down against him. Our noises are in unison, needy and desperate.

I’ve wanted this, wanted him so long the small shift to glide wet fingers over my clit has me trembling, begging him for more. I whimper, breathless as the direct contact is pulled away. His thumbs snag my belt loops, tugging them down an inch. I kneel, pushing up so I once again straddle his groin, rocking while taking over to flick the button open and drag my zipper down. The dark pools of his eyes are locked onto mine for the half second it takes for his hand to drift to his mouth. A deep inhale has his lids fluttering closed; he moans a repeated set of words before sucking the wet digit past his lips.

As I’m attempting to shift the fabric down my hips the cot seems to tilt. His eyes pop open as we tumble to the floor, sliding across the room as the whole ship apparently dives down.

Fuck!

Fucking what the fuck?! Life you are not allowed to keep doing this to us! My hands scrabble for purchase on anything but I have to cover my head as the few unsecured things fly with us towards the far wall. There are shrieks and crashing from the hallway as an alarm blares and a shout for all crew to report to their stations blasts from the intercoms.

The Doctor manages to grab the small table, bolted to the floor, as there is a sudden over corrective climb. He latches onto my wrist as I skid past. His jacket tangles with my legs as the room dips side to side, easing to a teetering over long seconds.

We are still sprawled as the door is flung open, we fumble for shirts and each other as if we were teenagers with a parent that should have been out all night walking in. Two figures aim something that scans our faces with orange grids from where they stand in the doorframe. The things make a pair of low tones. “They’re not them, that idiot either lied or messed up,” one barks into a comm device, “we’ll check the next room, you keep searching the common areas.”

The other eyes us with a leer “Looks like we ’nerrupted somethin’ nice. We have time for a quick bit o’ fun, the others’ll find the rich bitch and her wallet if they’re here.”

The first gives him a disgusted look “Keep it in your pants, secure them and move on.” He keeps a gun trained on me while using a plastic zip to hold my hands behind my back.

The second one is a rough securing the Doctor, mocking the angry foreign words seething from him. At least there is small relief in that the Doctor can’t understand the graphically violent suggestions he makes about the pair of us. I am not so lucky, and when the guy notices my pale face and shudder his vulgar snarled descriptions grow even more creative until I have to bite hard into my lip to stay silent.

“Shut up and hurry up, we’re not here for that sort of thing.” A hushed grumble follows, “ _Have me working with fucking sickos._ ”

I don’t make a noise as I we are pulled to the center of the room, nor when the letch manages a quick grope against my bra. Instead the fingertips I reach to brush against the Doctor’s are quickly grasped.

The “nicer” captor drags the other out of the room, drawing an X and a circled two on the door with marker then lets it slam shut.


	3. Hopping Through Dimensions and Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of many encounters Rose has with another weary soul during her dimension cannon hops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the storyline will be added over time. With Rose thrown across time and universes I cannot fathom that the lovely Donna is the only companion she's run across.

There is something terrible going on, but I honestly do not care what, they are so busy fleeing the room that they don’t bind me securely. Even so I hear something pop as I yank my arm free and that icy hot agony runs through me. Seconds, desperate and precious while they’re gone, have me dragging myself over to the shredded remains of the jacket, another instant and I’ve found the recall button, slamming down on it as fast as I can.

As usually only seconds have passed and it takes the crew what seems like forever to react to the sight of me. Pete is halfway into the enclosure as I hoarsely scream at him frantic instructions. Not to touch me. Track my signature. Blitz, give me a new button and send me there now!

“Sweetheart we need to help you!” Part of me doesn’t think I’ve ever seen terror like this in his eyes before and I wonder if I feel like this, how do I look. He’s certainly never slipped up and called me an endearment at work before.

“No time.” My voice is broken as I yank the fresh devices from his hands. And there is no time, I can feel weakness of parts of my body failing and know there might only be minutes, screw the potential danger of running into myself, it’s the only chance I have. I see the cannon blink green as it locks onto some fragment of me. “ _Now!_ ”

The first shot is obviously too far back and I hit the button within seconds. The massive surge of energy at using the cannon twice so quickly together is still wheezing through the lines and I bark out instructions for them to make the small readjustment, the power flickers and I try to focus on my surroundings. A nearby newspaper flutters in the breeze, I am weeks too late.

My vision swims upon my return and they make the tiny move of the dial. I blink at the sky. Hours too early. I don’t have hours, it doesn’t feel like I have the minutes it takes for the device, which must have been used before I got back, to activate.

A hairline adjustment and a fresh button thrown through the air, with an electric crackle and flash I stagger out even as Pete is thundering at the techs who are demanding that the equipment can’t handle this, forcing the activation as electric showers rain down from something that catches fire. The familiar soul deep yank, rips me across dimensions. The sound, the smell, the night sky, I’ve made it.

Across the street is a familiar figure, a tiny part of me makes the effort to be half surprised I didn’t see him the first time I visited in this city, this time.

He must recognize my face or hair from our earlier encounters during my jumps, since he smiles and starts to move. His greeting morphs into a startled “ _Christ!_ What happened?” as he draws closer and I tip forward. He rushes to help support me, causing another sizzle of electricity at the contact, intensifying as he applies pressure to the deepest wound. A stifled scream tears from my throat as the exquisite razoring jolts across my nerves. It is agony and ecstasy and after the past few days my body can’t tell the difference between the two anymore, leaving me gasping a ruptured cry and spots in my vision. As things come back into focus I am staring into his eyes. Awkward bewilderment has joined the concern and what I can only assume is embarrassment.

“Did you just…are you…you’re not all right but what just...”

I manage a thick breath and a half delirious inappropriate joke rather than waste an explanation trying to paraphrase what happened in ‘not the best experience of my life’ while bleeding to death in a near stranger’s arms. He makes an odd noise. I guess he does not approve of my humor.

Failing to stifle a wet cough I try to explain enough to get us moving, “Only thing I could think of…need to get there before…nano…” He protests as I take a dragging step forward. It feels like my lips and fingers are bloodless and I can’t stop my violent shivering.

“I need to stop the bleeding, you’re in shock.”

I can’t wait, insistent in my motions, I manage to wheeze “Everybody lives.” With a frustrated noise he scoops me up, telling me to point where I want to go and bitching under his breath about experiences with strong determined women and knowing fighting me would be a futile infuriating argument until I passed out or my heart stopped beating. A few less than flattering comments about my mental state are easily ignored as he takes long, ground eating strides.

I motion him to a gap in a chain fence then give a slurred hush to be quiet as someone in a leather coat leads a few figures just into the half-hidden edge of my view.

“Is that you? Or like your grandmother?” His question is a soft hiss.

“Shhh…big…ears…”

It’s so hard to keep my eyes open to direct him…I can hear him saying my breathing worries him as he sets me down by the train boxes. Shirt so tattered he has to carefully peel back the strips of gore soaked fabric that again sends wickedly vicious tremors through me. He gives a curse about the bleeding only slowing, not stopping, while leaning in for a closer look “Are those?”

“Yeah.” My mouth is pressed together in a grim line at the ringing in my ears as much as the thought of the blade working.

He stares at the spider webs of ugly scars covering my torso, some thick and silver with age, some red of recent wounds, the most recent still raw. My vision goes unfocused and body icy at memories when his fingers absently trace the surgically clean pattern bisecting and dividing my torso. Something makes a hazy pink trail through the blood on his arm, there is an odd sound and another tear runs its path, I know I am in trouble if I can’t even control this.

“Hey, hey! Stay with me!”

The fringe of a glowing cloud inches towards us and I try not to moan as sensations calm, and my skin is painted whole and clean. I see the amazement on his face at that, and how small damage, long worn on him, seals and repairs. His mind is instantly on the woman he loves “How? This can heal her too!”

“Chula nanogenes,” I say, my voice my own once again, wriggling and counting my fingers in front of me, then glancing around for any type of jar, “practically magic.”

We manage to trap some in a drink bottle and he holds a tight seal over the top with his palm as I follow his race to reach the large box, he mentions a name for it, accompanied by savage swearing as the tiny miracles hover around then dissipate away from the Pandorica, failing to break through the barriers.

It is my turn to hold him as he crumples. I try to soothe him with soft noises as he breaks down, grieving the false hope. All I can do is echo the phrase he said so long ago “She alive in there.”

As dawn paints the horizon he grows quiet, composing himself. Our embrace turns awkward and we part. I hold the fabric together over my chest as the chill settles over me and he averts his gaze. More time together in the last night than in our many brief encounters spanning so many years, I brush aside caution and properly introduce myself, extending a hand.

He shakes it, returns his details and giving a wry laugh, “Rory Williams, born 1989, which makes you both a couple years older and nearly two thousand years younger than me.”

“Nice to meet you Rory.”

“Likewise…”

More often than not our encounters have comprised of a bad joke and a few minutes of chatter before I just leave, so this feels unfamiliar, “Well…I guess maybe until next time?” I smile, not sure of a proper goodbye in this situation, almost certain this is the last time I’ll see him, but as I was told so long ago, never say, or think, never ever.

“Take care of yourself.”

“I do my best.” I nod at him and the box, giving a quick, “You too,” hesitating only slightly to grab him into a tight hug before thumbing over the device. A thought rolls through my mind in a rushed whisper not quite my own. You are a good man Rory Williams, you _will_ have a fantastic life.

“Your eyes-” He takes a step back and the last thing I see while depressing the button is my feral grin reflected in his confused gaze.

You both will.


	4. Dream Memories 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I ever get everything up this is a middle of the story snippet.

It is freezing, this horrible place is a grey overcast just like it was last time. The briny wind is whipping my hair, I’m staring at you, hope swelling in my chest. _Answer me. I need to hear you-_

“Does it need saying?” 

The tightness in your expression, you had to know how that would razor through me. My heart falls and I fight to keep the despair off my face. _Of course, of course it needs saying! We don’t need words for so many things but …why can’t you just say it, even now is it so impossible?_ I turn to your mirror, his eyes tighten, “And you Doctor, what was the end of that sentence?” Before I even finish asking him, he steps closer, reaches out to give support in touch on my arm, the heat radiating through my sleeve. 

He bends to my ear, words low, but forceful. Not a hidden whisper but an intimate declaration, the last words the TARDIS translated for us, “We _love_ you, only I am _in love_ with you” 

There is no doubt, no hesitation in his-your eyes. You’re pulling back and I see a hint of rejection start to form, unacceptable. I grab your lapels and between one breath and the next our mouths meet. Glorious bands of warmth wrap around me as your arms tighten, fingers splaying. 

A reoccurring dream of a memory, better than the nightmares, even laced with the myriad of emotions. Sometimes the grief, hurt, and anger resonate most, and I wake snarling and gloomy. Other times the joy, love, and hope, and a smile stays fixed on my face. Yet other times it is the heat, the connection, the need, and desire that thrum through my blood, we both enjoy the results of that. I never mention anything more than ‘the beach’ if you sleepily ask what’s wrong as I “express” my emotions, no matter which set rules the moment, but I know just as you do that we are in love with each other. We create and destroy, but that is unchanging. 


End file.
